I don’t know about you but I feel my insides pressing against my skin as I read yet another devastating newsflash.
We’re fucked.
The environment, people, politics. Is any of this even salvageable?
On other days, it isn’t despair, just a weirdness.
A glitch, a dissonance of sorts. 

Like someone has quietly rearranged my living room without telling me. Something is off. Not fully, just slightly. And I can’t return to the before, because I’ve forgotten how it was, how it felt. Who I was.

So I’ll stay with it. This new thing. This after.
This weirdness.
Maybe that is where it all begins.

 Starts hiding behind my eyelids, washing over my perspective.
Blink havoc. Blink pleasure. Blink distraction.
Blink extreme. Blink lost. Blink empty. Blink alive.
Blink all of the above.

Remember after the dentist, when I kissed you with a numb lip, and it felt weirdly sexual.
Was that me, or was that just weird?

And the other day, when we saw a seagull devour a rat.
We read it as end-times symbolism.
Plagues of frogs, rivers of blood… the gull shall eat the rat.

‚What‘s your SUPER power‘ he whispered across the aisle. ‚Complete ignorance, ‘ she husks back and grabs the last pack of coffee, maxing out her credit card. ‚Yeah, I wish, ‘ he mumbles, dreaming about New Year’s – the last time he afforded wheat bread. I just got used to my tongue being numb with hemp, the only real alternative. After all, we all got to be SUPER. One better than yesterday at a time.

‘For fucks sake get a life’ she yelled as he honks at her with violence. She can see the white in his eyes. She hadn’t planned to cross the line, but now that she accidentally did – she owns up to it. This is public space and she is definitely public. The time her luxury, the space her sanctuary and he just entered her church. She is it. A true pedestrian. 

When she finds the white role in her pocket feeling the heavy fabric in her palm she stops shaking. It unrolls with a ‘fffffflapp’ and sails to the ground in an instant assimilating with its environment. It’s official now. This time she redrew the line – not cross it. So we can all go back on the road. Together.

Ben H. is terrifying today’s business crowd with all tipping points in the red and curves so steep sliding us right into doom any minute.  7 out of 8 won’t make it they say. Will you be the one? When consequences get real? Too real. And so I keep watching the lovely man in a Hawaiian shirt with matching pants google ‘Christian perishes in walking distance’. Coping the shit out of things with all we’ve got while still working hard to save us all. 

If you choose to fail us, we will never forgive you.

State officials identified the suppression of hugs as a long term health hazard. Therefore various institutions issued instruction manuals for the creation of Hug-Airbags. In instances of running towards each other spreading arms, winglike ready to embrace, the hug airbag inflates allowing for a safe encounter.

?

Saliva starts to form a big gulp in your throat. Thick lines flickering in front of your eyes. Pupils are following the white and dark spaces formulating comprehension. Like a perfect rhythm hammering inside of your forehead, the combination of space and line start creating sense in the cracks of your temporal lobes. Words are passing through the body like rain sinking into the sun-dried soil. Unfolding sensations keep dripping onto surface. Your wrist starts hurting, ink running low, sweat down forehead while the words start pouring out of every corner like rats leaving a sinking ship. Maddening capriciousness. 

A labyrinth of lines in cryptic plans, a secret language of its own. Tiny models, fake trees and people dependent on skilled minds to imagine walls overgrown by shrubs of rules and regulations. Seemingly impossible to overcome. And then 39 letters. Thirty-nine letters to help make all the difference — the start of a quest.